


Why are you trying to climb through the window? (Would you believe me if I said it is a hobby of mine?)

by Heart_Of_Steel_And_Fandoms



Series: A bunch of AU's where two idiots (AKA Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes) get together. [1]
Category: captain america movies
Genre: Arnim Zola has a disability fetish, Awful blind date, Bucky gets caught trying to escape, M/M, Not with the animals, One Shot, Sorry I'm terrible at tagging, Steve and Bucky are both Vets, Steve comes to his rescue, blind date au, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:55:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4736930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_Of_Steel_And_Fandoms/pseuds/Heart_Of_Steel_And_Fandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt; ‘you caught me stuck in the bathroom window of a restaurant trying to escape a really bad date, a little help please?’ au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why are you trying to climb through the window? (Would you believe me if I said it is a hobby of mine?)

Bucky was having a shitty day. Granted, most of his days recently had been pretty bad, but an awful date on top of the seemingly endless pitying glances by his boss and co-workers made today particularly hellish.

It was all Natalia's fault, anyway. If she could just mind her own business and stop trying to set him up on blind dates with people she was 'friends with friends' with, then his life would become a million times easier.

The date had been arranged for nine, at this fancy restaurant Clint recommended, and Bucky had been resigned to an evening of mindless small talk and mutual uncomfortableness before the guy had even showed up. All he'd known about the guy was his name, and that he worked for/with (Bucky had been mildly drunk when she dropped the date on him) Natalia's boss' friend. Bucky wasn't sure that made the man automatically date material, but one does not simply argue with Natalia when she decides something.

But then a small, squinty guy with greasy hair had sat down opposite him, looked at his prosthetic arm, and licked his lips. It had taken Bucky months to accept his new arm, to learn to deal with the murmured 'Thank you for your service' whenever anyone saw it. But one thing he had never gotten fully comfortable with (and didn't really want to be) was the unexpected attraction certain people had for it.

The guy, a scientist by the name of Arnim Zola, had then proceeded to spend the rest of the starter and main course blatantly ogling his arm as if it was some sort of sex toy designed specifically for his use, and dragging the tips of his feet up Bucky's trousers.

So here he was, ten o'clock on a Friday night, his head and shoulders halfway out the bathroom window, desperately trying not to fall out and crack his skull. It was possible that this hadn't been his best idea. Bucky though for a second about going back into the restaurant, but just the imagined look on Zola's face made him shudder in disgust. He was just about to give in and try and call Natalia for some much needed back-up, when a blast of air on his legs warned him of the bathroom door opening.

Bucky cursed darkly, his hands scrabbling for a hold on the outside wall, one of his feet knocking over a bottle of soap that had been sitting on the sink.

Ugh, of course that insane Zola would follow him in here, probably hoping they could find a stall to hook up with. Not on his life.

But a deep voice, that was definitely not Zola, because please the guy sounded a bit like a broken pop song, spoke up from behind him.

"Err... What are you doing?"

Bucky simply sighed, and, resigned to his present plight of being stuck (and Natasha must never ever know about this because he would never hear the end of it), leaned his arms against the walls. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied sarcastically to the mystery stranger, legs holding him up where they were tightly pressed between the wall and the sink.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to sneak out of the window, but I do know better because there's a sign for the back door literally on the wall outside this bathroom."

Bucky groaned, loud enough for the other man to hear if his muffled laugh was anything to go by. It was typical. Bucky had been in such a rush to escape his traumatising date, he hadn't even bothered to look for another escape route.

Clint would be laughing at him so hard if he found out about this.

"S'not my fault. Maybe the sign wasn't big enough." Yes, Bucky was aware he sounded like a petulant child, and no, he did not care.

"Uh huh. So, to my real question, why are you attempting to climb out of the bathroom window?"

Bucky scrunched up his nose, and waved a hand flippantly even though the stranger couldn't see through the wall to his actions. He did not feel like sharing his train wreck of a date with this stranger, thank you very much.

"Would you believe me if I said it was a hobby of mine?" Bucky winced at how pathetic that sounded, but strange dude let out a bark of laugher.

"Only if you said you were an assassin." He quipped, and Bucky found himself grinning before he could stop it.

"Never been called that before." He said, a smirk in his voice that even he could hear.

Strange dude (and it was starting to irk him that he still didn't know the guy's name. Or what he looked like) laughed again, and Bucky could practically feel him rolling his eyes even through one thick wall.

"Maybe you're just hanging out with the wrong people."

A surprised laugh escaped him before he could cut it off. It was late on a Friday night, after a shit day of work and an even shittier date, but he felt as if he hadn't had this much fun since the time Clint challenged Natalia to a drinking contest. Needless to say, Clint had spent the next morning alternating between puking his guts out, gulping down cup after cup of coffee, and glaring at the two semi-innocent, smug Russians incapable of getting hangovers from American alcohol. Or so Clint had told them with a slurred voice and bloodshot eyes. The picture was still hanging on Bucky's fridge. Meh, he liked to gloat.

"Maybe I am." He said, unsure where he really wanted this conversation to go when he a) couldn't see the guy, b) was already on a date with someone he'd never want to see again, and c) he couldn't fucking see the guy. Now Bucky was by no mean shallow, and was fully in belief of the goodness of someone on the inside over the outside, but the dude could be covered in blood for all he knew. Maybe he was a murderer, or wore a top with a stupid statement on it, or, ugh, was wearing spots.

Bucky hated spots. Give him stripes all the way.

With this thought in mind, Bucky wiggled a little harder to escape from the clutches of the window.

In one solid movement, his foot slipped on some of the earlier spilled soap, and he fell out of the window onto the floor in one giant heap.

"Ow." He muttered grumpily, absentmindedly rubbing the place where his metal arm met his shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" The concerned question came in the same voice as the earlier comments, and Bucky raised his head to see the strange man. Who was immediately updated to strange-man-that-had-just-provided-Bucky's-jack-off-fantasies-for-the-rest-of-his-entire-existence.

Because, fuuuccckkkk. His first though was some barely coherent tangent of the literal Adonis standing in front of him and his broad, broad shoulders, then onto his blond hair that was begging his fingers running through it, and the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

His second thought was only slightly more understandable, raving poetics about the guy's fucking arms that looked like he could bench press Bucky if he wanted to and oh great now he was thinking of sitting on him in a much more sexual way and just plain out fuck.

Somewhere in the jumbled stream of conscious he noticed the guy was wearing stripes. If anything could have made it worse.

Welp, Bucky thought, as his eyes unconsciously moved down the stranger's body, pausing at his thighs (holy shit, his thighs) and what little he could see of his ass from that angle (and Bucky wanted to fucking weep at what he did see, the guy had a perfect ass, a perfect everything) I'm boned, before barely withholding a groan. Bad wording, there.

It took a second for it to register that the guy was speaking to him, and he shook his head ruefully before smiling self-depreciatingly up at him. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

The guy blushes, like, actually blushes, and Bucky doesn't know why he finds that adorable but he does, and suddenly it's gone from wanting to be fucked by the guy into wanting to wrap him up in blankets, cuddle, and hide from the world.

And he had no idea how it happened.

"Steve Rogers. My name. I'm Steve Rogers." The guy-Steve, was getting flustered again, his blush staining his cheeks an amazing colour that made Bucky want to follow it and see how fair it went. Who was he kidding he'd want to do that anyway.

"James Barnes," he drawled out, brain still hardly functioning in the face of Steve's unfair hotness. "But my friends call me Bucky." Well, all except Natalia, but he never called her Natasha so he guessed it was fair play.

Steve's grin was bright enough to blind him. "And am I your friend?"

Bucky tried to laugh it off then, how easily he got on with Steve even after only knowing him a few minutes. "Well, you were faced with looking at my ass for a few minutes, and if we weren't friends people might go and get the wrong impression."

Steve's blush deepened, and Bucky felt a sudden rising giddy happiness as Steve avoided his eyes. Maybe the day wasn't going to end as bad as he'd feared.

...

Bucky flung his hand around on the nightstand to try and find his phone as it rang, eyes bleary from lack of sleep. The reason for his lack for his lack of sleep mumbled lightly into his back and Bucky was grinning happily as he answered the phone.

It was Natalia, of course.

"Mornin' Nat," he chirped, and he could be forgiven for sounding so cheerful at fuck o'clock because he had spent all night, and one pretty memorable five a.m., being driven out of his mind with pleasure. It sure put a fella in a good mood to start the day.

"My, don't we sound cheerful this morning, James?" she stated, a question clear in her tone.

"I have a right to feel cheerful if I want to, and the ability to as well." He could hear rustling in the background, and heard Clint's distinct voice as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Yeah, but if previous history is any indication it's not a common occurrence."

"Shut it Barton." He warned, without any real heat, still too blissed out and content to care if Clint was being snarky.

Natalia shushed them both, and made an enquiring noise. "So, how did the date go, James?"

Bucky leaned down and rubbed his nose against the shell of Steve's ear, and was rewarded with a sleepy grin. Steve's eyes remained firmly closed, but his other hand reached around and enclosed around his metal one, the ease with which he did so putting any last remnants of Bucky's fears to rest.

Last night, in between their bouts of getting sweaty in the sheets (and the wall, and the kitchen counter, and the sitting room floor...) Bucky had learned that Steve, like him, was a vet, but unlike him, Steve had been a captain rather than just a sergeant.

So he had seen multiple injuries, worse ones that his in the field, saw them happening right in front of his eyes to his men and his friends as he was helpless (they had both started to cry at the horror of it all before sharing a number of wet salty kisses that were somehow sweeter than any Bucky had ever had), and one clean, metallic arm was hardly a shock to him.

It felt good that someone other than Natalia or Clint saw the arm as just an extension of him, not something to be pitied, or praised. Steve was good in a lot of ways.

"Terrible." He replied honestly, trailing his fingers through Steve's hair as the blonde nuzzled into his hand.

Natalia let out a sigh and was quit for a minute. "Okay, but what about the barista who brings your coffee in Starbucks?"

Bucky let out a non-committal sound as he continued massaging Steve's head, a soppy grin probably all over his face.

Natalia just huffed at him before ending the call, and, Bucky, long used to how she acted with anyone she cared about, simply let the phone drop to the floor and crawled back under the covers beside Steve.

He was immediately wrapped in a hug from behind, Steve's head resting in the place where his neck met his shoulder.

Bucky smile and relaxed, happy for the first time in what felt like forever.

Who knew an awful date could end so well?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, any and all are mine, and it's past one in the morning and I have to get up in like six hours and I think I might be a masochist. Comment and kudos if you like this, and I'm going to write another one soon!


End file.
